


Prolouge for a story I'm writing

by catpop12343



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, Gen, POV Third Person, Religious Guilt, a little bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27590702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catpop12343/pseuds/catpop12343
Summary: So uhh, tell me what you think. Do you want more from this story? let me know in the comments





	Prolouge for a story I'm writing

Dark leather boots pounded against the cobblestone as Ainsley ran frantically through the market, dashing through the crowd. Her short, orange hair, which had been so thoroughly brushed by her mother, was now in its normal state of disarray, with wild, fluffy locks sticking up in the back, bangs swaying in front of her vivid purple eyes. Her mother had picked out her clothes, too, A crisp white tunic that hung down to her thighs, with a decorative belt securing it to her waist. Her trousers were a light blue. Both were tailored to fit comfortably over her rotund form. 

She bumped into an older beastkin, nearly knocking him over.

“Sorry, mister!” She called as she ran past him.

She couldn’t afford to be late, especially so when the church is concerned. Why had they summoned her in the first place? It wasn’t a worship day, and if she  _ was _ in trouble, wouldn’t her parents be coming with her?

Oh well, there’s no time to dwell on that now. All she could focus on was reaching the chapel in a timely manner.

In no time at all, she found herself at the chapel by the forested wall of the cavern. It was a simple building with a stone brick wall, colorful stained glass windows, and a belltower. The roof was made from sturdy wood, and was painted slightly red. Ainsley burst through the sturdy wooden doors to the chapel.

The inside of the building was something she knew well. Rows of wooden pews leading up to the altar, sunlight filtering through the colorful windows, and the upper level of the chapel, where the clergy lived.

There, she spotted the youngest member of the clergy. His short, chestnut hair was styled neatly, his bangs swept off to the side, giving him a clean, friendly look. “Brother Peter! Good morning!”

The young cleric looked up from where he was sweeping and smiled, his ochre eyes shining. His clean, white robes flowed as if in a light breeze, the gold trim glittering in the sunlight. “Good morning, Ainsley. You’re looking well.” The cleric had always been like a guardian to her, taking care of her when her parents didn’t understand, or listen.

“Father Cedric wanted to speak to me. Can you show me where he is?” Ainsley asked breathlessly.

“He’s in his study. Just turn left at the altar, and enter the second door to your right.” Brother Peter pointed down the aisle.

“Thanks, Brother!” The girl waved to him as she sprinted through the building, before finally reaching the Father’s door.

“You may come in, child.”

With a steadying breath, Ainsley entered the Father’s office, where he was presumably doing some boring old paperwork before she arrived, as he was still wearing his reading glasses, and several scrolls, books, and clusters of loose paper covered his desk, along with several inkwells and scattered pens.

“You wanted to see me, Father?”

“Yes.” Father Cedric was old, far older than most people Ainsley knew. Despite his age, he still managed to hold on to a full head of silver hair, going down to his shoulders. His face was lined with wrinkles, and his voice was gravelly and hoarse. His eyes were a dull brown, and were often sunken and tired. “The clergy and I have been discussing your… behavior over the past few weeks.”

_ Oh, crud! _ Ainsley thought. 

“Now, normally we would discipline you appropriately. Speaking out during sermon is strictly prohibited. However,” the old cleric paused. “I’m willing to forgive your sins as simple delinquency. Just remember this for tomorrow’s sermon.”

“That’s right. The next Chosen One is named tomorrow.”

“Mhm. You better be on your best behavior, Ainsley. This is a very important ceremony. We  _ cannot _ have you screwing this up.”

“Of course, Father. Understood,” Ainsley said. 

“If you even  _ think _ about making a scene tomorrow, you  _ will _ be punished.”

“With all due respect, Father, how can you be so sure the Oracle will visit our chapel?”

The old man’s face hardened, his brow furrowed in anger. “Do not talk back to me child!” He shot up, slamming his hands on his desk, sending pens rolling everywhere and papers flying. “You  _ will _ behave yourself tomorrow, as if the Oracle  _ were _ here, regardless of whether they are or not! I’m fully in my rights to excommunicate you right here, but I’m a righteous man, so I’ll spare you from damnation. But this is your  _ final warning _ ! Understood?”

“Yes, Father. Understood,” Ainsley said. Despite her fear, she kept a neutral face. She couldn’t afford to show weakness, especially at a time like this.

“You may go child. May fate be with you.”

As soon as she got permission to leave, she fled the old cleric’s office, and accidentally rammed into Brother Peter on her way out.

“Oh, dear. Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just excited for tomorrow’s sermon,” Ainsley lied.

“It is an important day,” the cleric sighed. Sometimes Ainsely forgot how soothing his voice could be, so deep, yet so soft. “It’s alright if you’re nervous. I am too.”

“Thank you, Brother Peter. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Ainsley began her slow shuffle home. Every hundred years or so, a person is born with the inherent destiny to protect the world from possible evils and whatnot. But in order to determine the Chosen One’s identity, an Oracle from the Capital must travel across the world, having already known the Chosen One’s identity through a premonition. So seeing one of the Royal Oracles in the local chapel on Choosing Day means that the Chosen One is present.

A light breeze rustled the leaves, carrying the scent of flowers.  _ I wish I could be the Chosen One. Maybe then people would see me as more than just a normal girl.  _ Ainsley thought, kicking at the dirt.

Sunlight filtered through the large, natural skylight in the roof of the cavern, casting shadows through the branches and shimmering on the rivers and lakes in the valley below. Terraced farms dotted the landscape, along with watermills, cottages, trees, and villages. In the distance, Ainsley could see great mountains. 

With a sigh, the young woman continued down the path. At least she didn’t have to hurry anymore. She could take her time to calm down after her confrontation with Father Cedric. She sighed. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.

**Author's Note:**

> So uhh, tell me what you think. Do you want more from this story? let me know in the comments


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